


face it tiger, you've hit the jackpot!

by rawquelicious



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Peter, Canon-Typical Violence, Deadpool does horrible stand up, Fix-It, Improv Comedy Clubs, Karaoke, MJ gets her husband a boyfriend, Marriage, Mary Jane is the best, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, really not in canon at all, what is a timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 18:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10972611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawquelicious/pseuds/rawquelicious
Summary: Mary Jane left New York because her marriage was falling apart. She comes back to find a guy in her kitchen who has the face of a hot dog, the body of 80’s Stallone and the sense of humor of an improv comedy club. This is the story of how Mary Jane Watson-Parker fixed her marriage by getting her husband a boyfriend and starting to say “Yes, and?”





	1. the way the cookie crumbles

**Author's Note:**

> This is un-betaed and english is not my first language. If you find typos or weird sentences, just tell me and I'll fix it!  
> It is vaguely based in the movies, and also sort-of in the comics both of Deadpool and Spider-man, but please don't try to timeline it because it gets really confusing, really fast.  
> There is canon typical violence, so please be careful!

The first time Mary Jane Watson meets one Wade Wilson, she doesn’t yet know his name. He is just a man (she thinks he is a man although she can’t be sure and Mary Jane likes being very sure about strange people in unitards) who is standing in her kitchen (well, sort-of her kitchen), reading the comics page from the paper she bought that morning.

She didn’t even know that papers still had comics. The only reason she even bought a paper edition of anything was because Peter was a real stickler for the old medium. She suspects he likes to watch his Spider-self on a honest-to-god front page. Superheroes, Mary Jane has learned in these past years, are all about ego.

The man in her kitchen, however, has just now realized that Mary Jane is gawking at him, still holding the door ajar, a bag of groceries precariously poised on her hip. Dread is pooling in her lower back, she knows she’ll never be fast enough to get the gun from her purse and god-fucking-damnit she just got here, got back with Peter, back to making this work and she sure as all demons in hell doesn’t want to start with all the damsel in distress bullshit that drove her away but it does seem that’s the way the cookie crumbles and she can’t breathe and…

The man in a red mask looks up from Marmaduke and beams at her. It’s hard to say how she knew his expression, since the red mask covers his whole face, but somehow it’s like he turned into an emoji. It’s a very expressive mask. It does nothing to calm MJ down.

“Who the fuck are you?” - she says, and a lot of things happen at the same time.

She lets the grocery bag fall to its fate, apples and tampons and a tub of ice cream rolling on the floor. As quick as a woman who took self defence classes and does a lot of yoga and soul cycling can do, MJ grabs her gun from her purse and is happy to see that her hands are not shaking as she holds it up and clicks the safety off. But the mountain of muscle that is this man (fuck being cautious about gender and species, her brain screams _man man man man man_ **_beast_ ** ) moves superhumanly fast and he is right in front of her before she can aim, grinning (maybe Peter should get this expressive mask) and he puts the barrel of her gun right against his chest himself (large hand with leather gloves right on top of hers) and pulls the trigger for her.

Click.

“Rose my darling, that was very hot and badass and I would really like to get into a steamy car with you, 90’s Leo be damned, you know I love a woman who does things for herself, but no bullets? Really? That is just not very smart!” - without thinking, MJ pulls the trigger again. This time, there is a loud BANG and the kickback from the gun is powerful enough that her arm feels like it took an high voltage electric shock and her shoulder is dislocated, the pain searing. The force from the close range blast throws the man back, he lands on his ass and immediately MJ is on top of him, boot in his neck. She holds the gun in her left hand now, aimed at his head.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” - she screams at his body. It’s not what she imagined saying when she killed her first man. She did start cursing a lot since she moved to LA.

“Ow, that tickled a bit. I’m hurt.” - there is a large bloody hole in his chest, but he is not dead. Her right arm hanging limply on her side, MJ’s brain is clear despite the pain, and she does think that it’s probably shock but she is thankful for the calm it gives her.

“Tell me who are you and what you are doing here or the next bullet is going to be in your brain, I swear to fucking god.” - she says, too fast and with a trembling voice. Her last role in LA had been as a badass redhead in a superhero flick, and she is so thankful for it right now.

Of course that is the moment the window cracks open to her left, and from the corner of her eye she sees a familiar red blur dropping in.

“Wade, I told you not to come here this week, actually I think I told you to never come in my apartment again, last time I was scrubbing blood for ages and…” - Peter Parker, boy wonder, looks at the scene in front of him. He is still wearing his Spider-man uniform and so his face is alien, but Mary Jane is so relieved to see him and hear him that she starts crying, steps down from the man’s neck, feels like she’s suffocating.

The man known as Wade props himself up on his elbows, his mask-eyes on Peter’s mask-eyes as Mary Jane is losing her mind.

“Honey, you’re home! I see you’ve brought your red-haired harlot back, did you think I wouldn’t find out? Did you think I’d crumble? Lay down and die?” - now he gets up, mumbling the lyrics to “I will survive” before saying - “Rose, it’s okay, I’m friends with Spidey here! Best friends actually, you can see this drawing I made of me and him kissing. I’ll add you dead in a fire later.”

“No, you won’t.” - Peter cuts him off before looking kindly at MJ, trying to placate her - “He won’t, don’t worry.”

Through the big hole in Deadpool’s red costume, MJ can see muscle and organs stitching back together, till all there’s left is burnt looking skin.

Now it’s Mary Jane’s turn to crumble, she barely has time to sit down on a kitchen chair as the pain in her shoulder gets really really bad and her head feels woozy. She slowly sets down the gun on the kitchen table in front of her, and tries to remember her pranáyamas. Peter gets closer to her but doesn’t touch her, instead taking off his mask and sighing deeply. He takes off his mask, in front of this asshole, like it’s all normal and good and they are pals. Takes off his mark and rubs the spot between his eyes like he always does when Mary Jane is being difficult or crazy or dumb. Then he says, like it’s normal:

“MJ, this is Deadpool, an associate of mine. And… Eer, Deadpool, this is my wife, Mary Jane.”

 

\--

 

The happiest day in Mary Jane’s life was the day she got married. They were both young and stupid and so very in love. She, barely nineteen, in the courthouse with his aunt’s old wedding dress, a 60’s mini shift dress with embroidered daisies. He, twenty and in jeans and a tshirt, sneaking out from his internship at Osborn Corp to get married, still half way through college. He was so brilliant, he shined so brightly. She still had that baby fat on her cheeks, and in the only picture of their wedding they are looking at each other like no one else exists in the world. 

Even though it’s only been four years, Mary Jane feels sore and bitter just looking at them. No one marries that young anymore.

She was also scared out of her mind, she remembers, they both were. She was scared of repeating the same mistakes as her mother, marrying young to a boy full of secrets, only to find out those exciting mysteries amounted to bullshit and booze and being dead at a young age. He was scared of responsibility. He was also scared of her,  Mary Jane knows. How she went wild with rage when he was late or stood her up, which was always and without explanation. How she sometimes cried with no reason. How she got more and more work exposing her body and those complicated things behind her eyes, in the glossy pages of magazines.

In that one picture none of that shows. They just seem happy, uncomplicated. She remembers, in that moment flooded with sunshine, that she was sure she loved him more than anything else in the world. But the night before the wedding she had slipped away from her childhood bed to have a hen’s night with her best friends, the fifth one, and the night had ended with her and Liz on a rooftop overlooking the city, MJ smoking cigarette after cigarette and crying her eyes out.

“I love him so much, but what if I fuck this up? I will make him hate me, I know I will.”

Eventually, she did.

 

\--

Peter shows his face in front of Wade all the time, very matter of factly. Like he trusts him. It’s amazing to Mary Jane because what an idiot would trust someone who spews words like he can’t stop voicing every thought that comes to his head, words like:

 _“So Spidey is married, a true family man, and to dead I’ve been waiting for 84 years Rose. You can’t tell me Titanic wasn’t good, shut up.”_ (no one had said anything.) _“So, did you get her pregnant and the she ran away with Billy Zane? He’s dead now, you know?”_ (he is not.) _“Let’s get I-got-shot-at-tacos.” “You know, I usually kill people who shoot at me, Rose. Just saying. You’re pretty lucky, maybe you should thank me.”_

It’s amazing to MJ because Peter never trusted her like this, implicitly. Without making her jump through hoops, making her guess and detective their life together until she found out all his secrets, until she dug enough to find Spider-man. And then words were spewing out of her too, words like:

_“How could you never tell me?” “How could you do this to us?” “What did I ever do to you?” “Is this about dressing up? Is this a fetish?” “You don’t even touch me anymore.” “You know how many men would pay to fuck me, while you go out every night to fight bad guys?”_

There was a meanness inside her, those nights alone, a meanness that festered while she waited and waited for Peter’s body to show up somewhere, washed up on the river. Most nights, at about 2 am, when she gave up on sleep and waiting and despairing, she would call old friends or the new ones from the fashion business she was getting into, and she would throw glitter on her face and go roar into the night.

The fundamental misunderstanding between her and Peter, is that Peter believes the bad guys live in the streets and that it’s our responsibility to stop them, no matter the cost. But Mary Jane knows that bad guys are mostly found inside your own home, where they beat your will into a bloody pulp until all there’s left is survival.

She knows it’s stupid to feel jealous whenever Peter takes his mask off in front of Deadpool, when they’re at the apartment and she sees it happening without a thought. She knows it’s stupid and crazy because she knows Peter’s face, she has known it since they were kids and they were set up by his aunt. She has known it through high school, when she was beautiful and popular and he was a quiet nerdy kid. She knew him through them being sweethearts, then best friends, then dating and marrying and fighting and hating, she knows that face.

What she doesn’t know is Spider-man. And she hates that Deadpool (she refuses on principle to call him Wade) has such an easy access to both sides of Peter, to all the masks this pretty boy of hers wears. He gets to see both Peter Parker and Spider-man, while Mary Jane watches from the outside, deemed too fragile and pretty and dumb. She hates feeling dumb.

Deadpool doesn’t take off his mask in front of her. She doesn’t want to ask Peter if he has ever seen the other man’s real face, feels like that is off limits, just like Peter doesn’t ask what she did in LA.

 

\--

 

Truth is, Mary Jane loved LA. She loved the warmth and sunshine. She loved that everyone was always willing to try new things, and that talk of expanding horizons was everywhere. She loved her s-barre and yoga classes and her green smoothies for curing the nasty hangovers after a night out. She loved that everyone was always smiling and hustling with endless positivity.

She couldn’t imagine Peter living there.


	2. how the cookie got into a crumbling stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What made MJ leave New York. No word yet on what made her come back, except that she is tired of people in red outfits in general.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: kidnapping, mild violence, psychological torture

She had left New York with one of Peter’s duffel bags filled to the brim with designer clothes and Victoria’s Secret sets and her makeup. Her wedding picture was stuffed in the bottom of it, she couldn’t leave it behind. Her face still tingled where the day before some kind of mechanical vulture hobo had slapped her hard with a steel wing. She had been kidnapped, again. By this time in her marriage, she was kind of sadly used to this role, didn’t even blink or pee herself in terror when she was grabbed by strange men in the alley on her way home from her shoot. She hadn’t fought back, because in her experience someone would come to save her soon, and fighting back amounted to nothing but trouble and bruises. She was just mad that she had a new script to read at home and now she would lose precious rehearsal time, because once again Spider-man was more important than her.

The first night after they took her, Mary Jane politely heard the vulture-hobo speech against capitalism and the loss of factory jobs or whatever he was on about. She nodded and dozed off, didn’t struggle when they put her in a nasty unlit room, with a naked mattress on the floor and a toilet. Hobo-vulture had even said to her, surprised to find her so quiet.

“Is Spider-man’s little girlfriend really so weak? Are you mute, girl? Do you understand that you are in a bad place with some very bad men who are going to do dirty and bad things to you unless your boyfriend gives us what we want?”

“I work in the fashion industry sir”, - she had smiled sweetly and surely, keeping her venom and her temper right behind her eyes - “Every day I’m surrounded by bad men with bad intentions. Besides, you’re going to be in prison soon and you’re never going to touch a single string of my hair.”

He had laughed, called her a “rebellious filly”, which grossed her out but wasn’t that bad in the scale of things that Peter’s enemies had called her throughout the years. And she had sat down gingerly in the gross mattress and started to wait.

And she waited.

And waited.

It took three days for anyone to come. Mary Jane didn’t even know who was more shocked, if it was her or vulture-hobo. He had clearly thought he hit the jackpot in Mary Jane(she felt like telling him he wasn’t the first man who had thought so and been disappointed), he did all this legwork to find out who was this red head who Spider-man kept saving, he had followed her, he had learned about her boring husband, a nerd who was clearly being cuckholded, he had done the fucking work.

The first day, he had sat her down in an interrogation room, and very calmly asked questions about Spider-man. She didn’t answer, even though no food came and her stomach growled and a light was brought to shine in her eyes. She kept quiet, and smiled, and was also very polite and calm in turn.

The second day he was starting to get angry, and she was also starting to get angry. They never turned off the lights but the windows were boarded up. He made his minions blow a horn right in her ears every time she dozed off. She was without sleep and without natural light, and she was starting to really get sick with hunger, even though she was a model and this wasn’t the first time she had fasted for 48 hours.

“You know, sir” - she had said to hobo-vulture at some point - “This is really not very good for my mental health.”

She didn’t know when the third day had started exactly, she was never allowed to sleep and her sense of time was slipping away. That was when she started to scream, and scream and scream until her throat was hoarse. No one hit her yet, instead they just kept her tied up with zip ties and looked on as she thrashed.

Vulture-hobo came back on the third day, smiling tensely when MJ was placed in a chair in front of him, her wild eyes fixed on him.

“You know what Red, I’m starting to think we made a mistake. You know nothing and no one is coming for you, isn’t that right? Well, at least you’re pretty enough that my boys can have fun with you, and maybe we can even sell you off at a profit.” - he said, his dirty fingers coming up to her face and caressing it. She shuddered in disgust and spit her words out with a broken voice:

“Maybe you’re right that no one cares and no one is coming for me, bird person.” - he looked pissed now, but she didn’t stop. She was too angry to stop, the words spilling out of her like bile. - “But you bet your fucking feathered ass that the first dick that comes into my mouth will be bit off, and those dirty fucking fingers of yours will be next. I don’t need Spider-man, I’ll leave here a corpse before you do anything to me.”

He did hit her then, not with his hand but with the mechanic wing attached to his back and she felt her face opening up and blood flooding down to her neck. She briefly thought “that’s it, I’ll never work again”, and then she was seeing red, snarling and trying to fight in any way possible. Vulture-hobo signaled to one of his men to take her and she was dead she was going to die die die die die.

That was when Tony fucking Stark showed up.

Mary Jane had met Tony during a brief stint when Peter was an official Avenger, and their first apartment had been blown up, so they had moved to the tower. At first, MJ had been really happy there. She felt like part of the team, making big bowls of pasta for everyone at dinner, playing cards with Captain America, watching TV with Clint. She had even done Natasha’s makeup once, for a covert operation, and even though she said nothing she could tell that the other woman was impressed.

Then one day Jarvis hadn’t let her leave the house to go to a photoshoot. He said it was not safe. She couldn’t go out with her friends, couldn’t have a normal life. She wasn’t one of the Avengers either, they didn’t trust her fully with their secrets, always whispering and talking plans behind her back. Once again, she was living Peter’s life, instead of her own. She had argued with him until they left the tower and were alone again. That was six months ago, and things were still tentative and sore between her and Peter. She hadn’t seen Tony since, but when he broke through the wall all her rage fell away and she immediately felt small and scared shitless and not ready to die at all.

She was still tied up, but now she finally cried, choking on her snot and tears while Tony neutralized every man in the room, the blasts of light everywhere around her until only she and Iron Man were left. He lifted his mask.

“Hey MJ, good to see you girl. I’m here to take you home.”

They stopped by the tower first, where one of Tony’s medical robots put her cheek back together, until only a thin pinkish scar was left. Tony reassured her that it would fade completely in about two weeks. Then, he took her home. He had set up surveillance, and had talked to Peter. He was coming as fast as he could. 

So MJ rolled herself into a ball in their bed, she thought she wouldn’t be able to sleep but her body crashed immediately. When Peter finally got home, a few hours later, her head was clear and she told him she was leaving.

He tried to explain, to apologize. There was an alien invasion, somewhere on the other side of the globe. He hadn’t heard from her, but that wasn’t unusual. He hadn’t noticed she was gone, after all she was never in the house anyway, always off to work or to party with her girlfriends, never accepting that it was also her responsibility to stay safe and not throw her life away.

She heard him going from apologetic, to pleading, to angry at her, to angry at himself.

Then she said again,

“I’m leaving.”

\--

Her first audition in LA was for the role she was supposed to be rehearsing during her stint in vulture-hobo’s layer. She was supposed to play a redheaded spy turned hero who was clearly based in Natasha, and the scene was a monologue where she was tied to a chair but refused to crack under torture and interrogation.

Mary Jane nailed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're doing a little set up before going back to New York.
> 
> I really love writing MJ, it's fun to write a complicated woman who can be really shitty but also super cool, and she has been so many things in the comics that this is really fun.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this, and let me know what you think!


	3. cookie crumbs are still okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in New York and in MJ's kitchen, a medical operation is performed by someone who really shouldn't do it. Some ducks are interrogated, and it may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

“MJ, will you please just stop being stubborn? Let me take you to the hospital!”

“No, Peter! It’s just dislocated, I will be waiting in the emergency room for hours and hours just so someone with a degree can pop it in again and give me painkillers, we can do that here and then you two...” - she turns to Deadpool with her accusatory finger raised, ready to continue her tirade, only to find that he has now settled in the couch with popcorn. - “Where the hell did you get popcorn?”

“Didn’t want to watch mommy and daddy fight without snacks! Are you getting a divorce? Is it my fault? It it because I’ve been baaad?” - he drags the last word suggestively and wiggles his eyebrows. The mask doesn’t even have eyebrows, its creepy expressiveness makes Mary Jane want to smack him. Then Deadpool leans forward and stares right into her eyes, lowering his voice to a low growl, - “Because I have been very bad, mommy, I’ve killed people in wonderful and imaginative ways. Sometimes I’m a hero with yo boy right there, but mostly I enjoy tearing their arms out...”

“Shut up!” - MJ interrupts his creepiness, because she has to hear this shit while her arm is still throbbing she will lose her fucking mind. 

Peter glares at the other man who just shrugs and says, “Sorry, the voices”, before returning to his popcorn.

Mary Jane continues, “Okay, if you tear arms off people, I’ll bet you’ve popped arms back too, so you will do that and my husband will heat me some soup and I will eat it while you both stay very quiet, and then we will talk about what you are doing in my kitchen and what is this heartwarming friendship that you,” - she points at Peter, who seems to recoil from her accusatory finger - “have apparently developed with a serial killer.”

Both men stand up straight, the fire in MJ’s eyes way more menacing than any supervillain they have both fought recently. Peter has his mouth open like he wants to argue, so she stares him down with a look that says “do not even try it” until he deflates and shrugs:

“I mean, you are right that he’s probably more capable of doing it than me… And you’re kind of right about the serial killer stuff but…”

Deadpool interrupts by clapping  his hands giddily like he is five and someone got him a puppy for Christmas. MJ looks pointedly at Peter and is glad to see him pinch that spot between his eyebrows for someone who is not her.

So that’s how MJ ends up biting a leather belt while Deadpool puts her arm back in place. He is wearing a nurse uniform and she doesn’t even ask where he got it. She grits her teeth and breathes through it. Back when she was nine, she had tried to run from one of her dad’s drunk beatings, and he had twisted her arm the wrong way and then put it back exactly like this. If she hadn’t gone to the hospital at nine, she wasn’t going to go now. Her new rule is “no weakness in front of superheroes”. She does kind of admit that maybe she shouldn’t have gotten such a big gun with a big recoil (it wasn’t meant to be shot close range, MJ was thinking about shooting aliens and levelling the field against superhumans).

Later, Peter does heat up soup for her, and the three of them sit down on the couch, Peter with his arm around her and Deadpool making jokes to her left as she eats the soup and listens to them retelling their adventures. How they met, how they hated each other, how they sort of got along, all the times they saved one another while she was saving herself back in LA. She finds herself laughing at Deadpool, he is insane but in a very entertaining way, and Peter seems to find him funny too. She thinks her husband enjoys playing the straight man, for once in his life having found someone even more mouthy and ridiculous than him.

There is something nagging at the back of MJ’s mind then, something she can’t quite grasp because when the adrenaline wears off, the low thud of pain in her arm transfers to her head till the painkillers kick in. She falls asleep on Peter’s shoulder while the three of them watch a “Golden Girls” rerun, and Deadpool keeps talking about how hot Bea Arthur is. Later Peter carries her to bed, and snuggles right against her back, being careful with her bruised shoulder.

“I am so lucky to have you.” - she hears him mumble against her neck. - “I missed you. I’m glad you came back.”

She’s been back for a week and it’s the first time he’s said it. She feels safe and warm and drowsy from the pills.

“I love you too, tiger.” - she replies, and right before she falls asleep she thinks she sees a flash of red outside their window. 

 

\--

 

After that day, Deadpool makes a habit of showing up when she least expects him. First he pops up when she is having lunch with her girlfriends. From the corner of her eye she sees a red blur and instinctively looks just to see Deadpool downing five hot dogs at once from across the street all the while looking intently at her. MJ runs out of the restaurant, only to find that he wants her to go with him investigate a conspiracy of ducks in Central Park. She has spent the past hour bored out of her mind as all the girls at the table talked about their careers and how many calories they are eating, so she doesn’t think twice before inventing a stomach flu(they look at her with envy, hungry eyes across the table) and running out the door. She spends the next hour throwing bread at the few ducks that he doesn’t scare off. It’s very comforting being outside with a giant man all in red. Deadpool doesn’t seem concerned with hiding the fact that he is either a superhero or just really weird, and either option means that new yorkers leave him the fuck alone. Eventually he gets tired of interrogating the ducks and begs until she buys more hot dogs, which he inhales while they sit on a park bench.

“So, what’s up with the duck conspiracy?” - she says pulling a little bag of mixed nuts from her bag and offering it up to him.

He doesn’t answer her question, instead says, “Are you seriously going to eat nuts while I’m eating meat in cylindric form?” - the word “nuts” is said with such a mix of disgust and innuendo that she giggles despite herself.

“I don’t really like to eat literal trash, thank you. Besides, you don’t see fat superheroes running around, and I’m playing one in the movies.” - she says with a shrug.

“They keep the fat ones in alternative timelines. You know who’s playing me in a movie? Ryan Reynolds! The boxes say it’s because I’m built like a tractor. A sexy tractor.” - he says before showcasing his lack of a gag reflex by literally shoving a whole hot dog down his throat. Wade is not really fat, just really really  _ large,  _ as in, if he was played by anyone in a movie she would imagine 80’s Stallone, not a canadian pretty boy.

“The ducks.” she reminds him.

“Oh yeah, the ducks. They know nothing.”

While they eat, he has pulled up half his mask and she politely didn’t look at first. Now she does look and the lower half of his face is… Just a mess of scars and pink fleshy sores and a lipless mouth. It looks very painful, and a lot of uncharitable thoughts cross Mary Jane’s mind, like “hot dog meat” and “leper sufferers” and “oh god”. But he does have a Stallone-like jawline, and she stares fascinated at the visible movement of his tendons while he eats until he stops and pulls his mask down in one sudden movement.

“Hey lady, my eyes are up here. I don’t stare at you.” - he sounds uncomfortable and kind of sad, and she blushes like a damn schoolgirl and feels shame gathering in her belly, but refuses to look away, instead focusing on his mask-eyes-things.

“I’m sorry I was staring, it wasn’t at your face, I was just impressed with your meat sucking skills.” - he laughs at that and the mood gets lighter when he smiles, she’s sort of sad that she can’t see it. The mask stays firmly down, and she decides not to press on it, instead saying - “And I can’t see your eyes, loser. Also, you kind of stare at me all the time, I’ve caught you looking at my ass twice today.”

He grins, unapologetic, and says, “I’ve never met a movie star just like you seem to have never met a meat processing accident-face. I’m starstruck and trying to get the courage to ask for an autograph, Kate Winslet. You’re my favourite actress, great tits and character work. I mean, The Reader? That film inspired me to teach a nazi to read.”

She snort-laughs and he mocks her, and Mary Jane feels weird and guilty when she notices that Deadpool has eaten the remaining hot dog surreptitiously out of her sight. It’s uncomfortable until he interrupts her by starting a tirade about what ducks are really up to, how they talk to angels and demons in trenchcoats and maybe ducks are the answer to find Deadpool’s ex, and how he doesn’t even know if he wants her anymore…

It goes on and on, and in between Mary Jane talks about her life in LA, and laughs, and feels lighter than she has felt in weeks. Deadpool walks her home and when they arrive, she says: 

“Thanks Dead, bye.”

“Is Dead my cute pet name now?” - he sounds ready to launch into a list of suggestions for better names, so Mary Jane interrupts him before he can start,

“It’s going to be your only name if you keep staring at my ass.” - she smiles before tiptoeing to kiss his cheek, the mask’s fabric hot under her lips. She turns back to wave him goodbye again at the top of the steps and for once he is quiet, looking intently at her walking away.

 

\--

 

“Are you cheating on me with Wade?”

Mary Jane is already sleeping when Peter sneaks into bed and wakes her up, but the question still makes her smile as she blindly grabs at the air until she catches him and pulls him to bed. 

“Just about as much as you’re cheating on me with him, tiger.” - she is joking, but feels him going weirdly quiet about a second too long before chuckling and dropping his full weight on top of her.

Peter groans, “I’m not, but just because you make the most comfortable bed, Red.” even as she laughs and tries to push him off her, she files that weird pause in her brain, and then gives up trying to push him off and just starts kissing him everywhere she can catch him.

He holds her wrists above her head with a firm grip and kisses her for real this time, slow and with purpose till they’re both panting. He’s still wearing his uniform, and she is not ashamed to say that kinky superhero sex is like a quarter of their relationship, so she puts Deadpool off her mind and wraps her legs around Peter’s waist, pulling his hips towards her.

Afterwards, they shower the sweat off and she cuddles against his chest, not even annoyed that he woke her up and not thinking about her 6am call time for a promotional shoot. It’s one of those moments she can’t remember why she left. She’s almost dozing off when Peter says,

“Thank you for hanging out with him, really. He was serious about that whole people killing thing but… He’s not a bad guy MJ. I don’t think so.”

After that, she stays awake longer, even after Peter’s breathing is slow and steady under her ear. She thinks about the look on his face when she came back, and about the instinct she felt to pull Deadpool’s mask up and feel for herself what his skin feels like.


End file.
